The Three Part Quest
by Magical words from Muggle pens
Summary: Narcissa Malfoy may be sick, sore, and hospitalized. But that isn't going to stop her from achieving her goal ... whether her son likes it or not. Draco/Hermione.
1. Part 1

**The Three-Part Quest  
**

_Part 1: The journey begins  
_

.

.

_July 28th_

_3:40 pm_

It was a warm summer afternoon. Most of the wizarding world was out and about, relishing the weather. But two unfortunate people were stuck alone in white-washed walls, where the curtains were drawn tightly against the sun's blinding rays. _  
_

"Did you have to go near that Dragon? Didn't that trainer warn you about infections?"

"We could have gone to Switzerland, but no ... dragons it is!"

"Stupid, monstrous, filthy creatures."

Narcissa Malfoy coolly flipped through the newspaper, ignoring her husband, who was pacing up and down the room. He was agitated, reasonably so, at the current situation. They had been peacefully vacationing in Romania - the sixteenth stop on their tour of the continent - when Narcissa had suddenly come down with a bout of Dragon Pox.

Since Lucius' father had tragically died from a virulent case of Dragon Pox, there was no choice but to drop all plans and find the best care.

So here she was now, sitting in a hospital bed at St. Mungo's looking ever-so-poised, despite being covered in red sores.

"... bloody press hounding us about the War ... the reason we left England on vacation ... avoid these nutters ..."

Lucius continued pacing around.

Narcissa tuned him out, as she often did, focusing instead on the article she had come across not so long ago. It was the very reason they were back in England, instead of choosing to visit any of the other excellent healers around the world. It was the main reason for her quest.

000

_HERMIONE GRANGER, WAR HERO, ADVANCES SEARCH FOR DRAGON POX CURE_

_Hermione Granger, best friend to Harry Potter and War Hero, has been working in conjunction with St. Mungo's for the past five years. At the mere age of 25 she has already established herself as a renowned Healer, and also as a brilliant researcher._

_Using samples provided by 'The Dragon Domes' farm run by Charlie Weasley, brother to Ron Weasley, she has been searching for a better cure to Dragon Pox. The previous cures to this virulent disease had only a 20% success rate and reacted painfully with the sores characteristic of this ailment._

_But Granger has devised a new cure, that has an astounding 75% success rate, which uses the healing property of phoenix tears ... (cont'd on page 3)...  
_

000

"Hello."

Narcissa hastily folded the article and smiled up at the hesitant face of Hermione Granger.

It was strange to think that this was the same petite girl who had fought furiously in the war. She looked so mature now.

In person, she looked almost identical to the photo in the article: professional, with her curly hair secured in a bun and wearing white crisp robes. The only difference was that the proud smile in the photo was replaced by a hesitant one in person.

"Ah, Healer Granger. I'm so happy to see you!"

Hermione's brows shot up at the brilliant smile emanating from Narcissa's lips.

"I would say likewise, but you seem rather under the weather," she replied with a frown.

Shooting a wary glance at Lucius, who seemed to be holding himself back from muttering one of his usual comments, Hermione approached Narcissa. Instantly, her shyness at facing her former rivals disappeared. At the sight of the ugly sores on Narcissa's body, she quickly became serious.

"When did you start getting these?"

"Just a week ago," Narcissa explained. "When we were visiting some Dragon enclosures in Romania."

"Did you touch any of the dragons?" Hermione was scribbling down some notes.

"Ah ... yes."

"_WHAT!_" Lucius thundered. He glanced sharply at his wife who was looking suddenly sheepish.

"Not now, Lu-"

"-Yes, now! I thought you just touched one of the gates. Why did you go near them? You need to take care -"

"I know, I know. But this is not the time-"

"- then when is? Didn't I tell you Romania was a mistake? Didn't I?-"

"Mum. Dad."

Hermione froze in her spot.

That droll voice had come from somewhere behind her, and it was painfully familiar.

Please not him.

Nothimnothimnothim ... _oh fuck_.

Sidestepping around her, Draco strolled up to his mother's bedside, placing a hand on her frail shoulder before turning to give Hermione a slow smirk. He had grown taller in the past eight years, and the soft boyish curves in his face had sharpened into mature angles.

"Well Granger, are you going to just stand there or do something useful?"

Hermione's entire face flushed in embarrassment.

"Draco!" Narcissa admonished.

"It's okay, Mrs. Malfoy," Hermione said sweetly. "He's been afflicted with rudeness since birth."

Lucius coughed uncomfortably, strangling a laugh.

"Too true, Healer Granger," Narcissa sighed.

"Oh please, call me Hermione."

Draco's eyes widened at the sudden camaraderie between the women, and looked to see that his father was also eying the two of them suspiciously. Since when did mother socialize with people outside her elite circle, Draco wondered, and that too with a notoriously Gryffindor muggleborn.

"Draco, why don't you go fetch me my cashmere robes?" Narcissa waved her son off distractedly.

"Err ... okay."

"You too Lucius."

"What?" he looked down at his wife, bewildered. "Why _both _of us?"

But he swallowed the question at his wife's insistent glare. Both the Malfoy men obediently slunk out of the hospital room, much to Hermione's amusement. Though it didn't last very long at the sight of Narcissa's smug smirk.

Something was very odd here.

Realizing she was being watched, Narcissa smiled innocently.

"Please continue, Hermione."

"Right ..."

* * *

_4:00 pm  
_

"Do you know why Mum wanted us to leave?"

"No."

"You didn't ask her?"

"No."

"..."

"Son, there are many lessons I have learned in my life -"

"... okay."

"The most important is: never fight your wife's whims."

"Right ..."

* * *

_4:20 pm  
_

After finally being able to tend to Mrs. Malfoy without either of the men hovering about her, Hermione carefully inspected the elder woman's skin.

She was quite surprised that the woman was so complacent and pleasant. When the Healer-assistants had informed her who her new patient was, she had decided to run away and refer her to another Healer. But she could not, in good conscience, turn away a sick person.

Pureblood prat or not.

But Narcissa was actually taking everything in stride. For someone who was usually uptight about her appearance, she didn't care that she was covered in ugly sores.

"So ... I hear you normally work in the pediatric ward?"

"Yes," Hermione beamed. "I love working with children, but my research with Dragon Pox has brought me in touch with several adult patients as well."

"But you prefer the children ...?" Narcissa completed the unspoken thought.

The brunette nodded. "I was - _am _- an only child. And being around that energy is infectious."

Narcissa nodded pensively. "I'd imagine you would want several children."

"Oh yes, that is, if I find the right person."

_"That won't be a problem."_

"What was that?"

"Oh nothing."

* * *

_4:45 pm  
_

Draco and Lucius, with the cashmere robes in hand, arrived back in the hospital room to find Narcissa and Hermione amiably chatting.

At the sight of them, Hermione cleared her throat and stood up. But instead of focusing on her, Draco noticed something on the bedside table, which the two women had been pouring over just a few minutes earlier.

"Are those my _baby pictures_?"

It took only one look at that gleeful smile on Granger's face to know the answer.

Draco emitted a long and loud groan.

"Oh hush Draco," his mother waved at him. "It's just a little girl talk."

He blanched. Girl talk? ... His mother, the woman who had dined with Death Eaters and was formerly Bellatrix Lestrange's sister, did not do _girl talk_.

"Yes. It was very illuminating," Hermione added maliciously.

Draco sent her a smoldering glare.

Lucius tapped his cane impatiently. Realizing that they were in a hospital and not back in the classroom, fighting, Hermione and Draco quietened.

"Well, the good news is that Mrs. Malfoy's case is completely curable," Hermione informed them. "However, since this cure is still relatively new, I would advise that she remain at St. Mungo's for two weeks so I can properly observe her recovery."

"As you must already know, Dragon Pox is not transmitted between humans through the air or touch. However any foods or drinks - anything in contact with bodily fluids - must be carefully inspected. We have already constructed wards to prevent such a contact from occurring."

Draco folded his arms, and looked at her coolly.

"Is that all?"

"... y-yes," she was disappointed to find her voice quiver. "And visiting hours will be over soon."

Nodding, Lucius bent down to quietly discuss something with his wife before striding out of the room without a single glance at Hermione. However, Draco blatantly perused her form before turning to wrap the robes around his mother's shoulders.

"Take care mother," Draco said affectionately. "We will be back tomorrow."

With a sneer, he shoved past Hermione on his way out.

Narcissa glared at her insufferable son. She had lied to the most tyrannical Dark Lord to ever reign upon England and had lived to tell the tale; she would not let a small thing like her son's petty pride get in the way of her quest.

She watched as he disappeared from sight, without a single apology.

Hermione sighed.

She dejectedly gathered her potions and other various healing ingredients while the older woman watched her studiously.

"Don't worry about him," said Narcissa.

Not knowing what to say without hurting her feelings, and feeling foolish for still being so easily ruffled by Malfoy's taunts, Hermione simply stayed silent.

"He's really a nice man on the inside."

She gave a noncommittal grunt.

Narcissa bit her lip. Seeing that the young pretty Healer was efficiently dabbing a potion on her sores without really paying attention to her words, it was obvious that her protests would do no good in the face of seven years of animosity.

Several minutes ticked by, when she spoke again.

"I've tried hard to keep this a secret -"

Hermione paused.

" - Merlin knows, it can't be easy for others to understand."

She continued applying the potion, but Narcissa could tell she was now alert.

"It is frowned upon in our family to openly speak about such things. But I cannot hold my silence any longer."

Narcissa cleared her throat.

"You see ... Draco is suicidal."

"_What_?"

Hermione gaped as Narcissa twiddled her thumbs innocently.

"It's true. Ever since that disastrous sixth-year, he has been utterly depressed with all the stress placed upon his shoulders. After all, what boy should have to choose between the lives of his parents and the life of his headmaster?"

She simply opened and shut her mouth several times.

How horrible.

She hadn't known that about Malfoy. She had always assumed that he had attempted to kill Dumbledore out of a need for personal glory, in hopes of becoming Voldemort's right-hand man. But he was only being a loving son.

"I tried so hard to save him from that fate. But, alas! He was doomed."

Her breath hitched, and Hermione patted her hand soothingly.

"I didn't know ... "

"It's okay," Narcissa murmured. "Draco is proud and refuses to show any weakness. But the fact is, he has been in doldrums for almost seven years."

"Oh my ..."

Hermione had forgotten all about the potion was now listening keenly.

"Lucius and I have tried in vain to cheer him up by taking him on tours around the world -"

Narcissa shrugged sadly.

"- I thought it was working. But on one night in Tuscany, I caught Draco standing on the edge of our villa's terrace, ready to leap to his _death_!"

"Oh no!" Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth.

Narcissa bowed her head, shaking her head dramatically.

"He's been so distraught over his past actions, most particularly over his poor treatment of you and your friends."

Her brows raised.

"But, like his father, he chooses to cover these feelings up with rude comments. So I beg you, don't be bothered by his actions or words. On the inside, he's just a broken little boy ... so sad ... Oh, Hermione, I just don't know what to do!"

To her utter horror, Narcissa broke into sobs.

Hermione plucked out some tissues and offered them to her, all the while rubbing her back in gentle circles.

There was silence for several minutes as she attempted to digest all of this new information. Suddenly she felt guilty for retorting back to Draco, and responding to his jibes, when it was now obvious that it was just a cry for help.

_What sort of a Healer was she!_

_She should have her license stripped!_

"I love my son, Hermione, but I can't see him alone and irritable all the time ..."

It was so sad.

She, Harry, and Ron had adjusted so well after the War. She never expected that there would be others facing a different fate. Just as the newspapers and Ministry were lavishing praise onto them for being war heroes, other people, like Malfoy, were being rejected for their forced association with the Dark Lord.

She, too, had judged him for it.

Too harshly.

"But please," Narcissa begged, in between sniffles, "don't mention any of this to him."

"Yes, of course," Hermione agreed quickly. "Suicidal patients are usually the most sensitive. The issue must be brought up delicately."

She was lost in her thoughts for a while, wondering on how to handle a suicidal Draco.

_"Oh Hermione, I knew you would be perfect for him ..."_

"What?"

" ... I mean ... no other Healer could better take care of her patients."

"Right," said Hermione, resolutely. "Leave it to me, Mrs. Malfoy. You just lay back and take your potions."

She bustled around with the medicines, the wheels in her mind already turning.

Narcissa, taking Hermione's advice, laid back on the cool pillows and smiled to herself.

Perfect.

Just perfect.

She fell asleep with a smirk on her face.

.

.

.

* * *

_AN: Two more parts to come. _

_Review :)_


	2. Part 2

**The Three-Part Quest  
**

_Part 2: Our adventuress leads the trail_

.

.

_July 31st_

_2:10 pm_

It was a few days later, when Draco and Lucius were sitting on an a meeting with Healer Granger, that it suddenly struck him that something was odd.

For one, Granger was smiling.

At him.

Normally, he would have chalked this up to the abysmally annoying Gryffindor-ian aspect of her personality, before he noticed that the smile was rather ... pitiful. It was much like the kind you would give a poor puppy that had been kicked over.

Worse, even father had noticed and was now staring between the two of them.

But, uncharacteristically, he chose not to remark upon this and instead settled his gaze elsewhere. (Most likely trying to burn the image of her pitying smile from his memory. Malfoys were _not _pitied; they were envied.)

"So far, so good," she said. "We're still in early stages of recovery, but everything has been progressing well."

There were some strange diagrams displayed by her head, and she was pointing at them, explaining something that was surely _very _important. But she seemed to have forgotten that they were no longer in Hogwarts, and that to suffer a lecture outside of school, was abominable.

"The virus that causes the Pox is currently at the epidermis, forming the sores you now see on her skin," she explained. "But should the virus grow stronger and persist, it will travel deeper through her skin until it reaches vital organs, which is when it could turn fatal ..."

Both the men were fast developing a glazed look in their grey eyes.

"Did you understand all of that?"

Draco jerked awake. His father was nodding politely, but when no one was looking, he inconspicuously wiped off a trail of drool from his chin.

With utmost dignity, of course.

"Very well then."

With that she bade them leave to visit Narcissa.

Draco stretched his tired muscles before rising from his seat and leaving.

However, as they were walking out, Lucius faltered at the doorway. Draco curiously turned to see his father looking back at Granger with a strange expression on his face. One could almost describe it as _worry_. But only if it was on anyone but Lucius Malfoy.

"Dad?"

"Go ahead, Draco. I'll be there shortly."

Strange, very strange.

* * *

_2:20 pm_

"Miss Granger."

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy."

"Is there a reason you have 10 Ways to Combat Suicidal Tendencies on your shelf?"

"..."

"..."

"Your wife suggested I read up on the topic."

"All right."

"You don't want to know why?"

"I understood all I needed to know the moment you said: wife."

* * *

_August 2nd _

_4:30 pm  
_

Draco had spent too many days here, surrounding by bustling staff and visitors. But today it was quiet on the floor; hardly anyone was around due to visiting hours ending soon. He had found a wayward empty waiting room, and finally found the peace and quiet to relax by himself. Relishing in it, he sipped his drink contently.

"Malfoy."

_Merlin, spare me_.

Draco raised an eyebrow over his drink, but did not respond.

"I know your mother's illness must be hard on you," she sounded rehearsed, "especially considering the circumstances. But you cannot shut yourself away like this!"

She was towering over his pale head, with her hands on her hips.

There was silence in the empty room.

"Granger."

"Yes?" she said, excitedly.

"I'm trying to drink some tea. _Alone_."

He nearly jumped out of his skin, when she placed a soft small hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. It left a strange buzzing sensation on his skin.

Mudblood germs, most likely.

"Tea is very soothing for the nerves," she said softly. "But it is only a temporary cure to a permanent problem."

Draco slowly sipped the tea, wondering if Granger had finally lost her marbles. It had taken her long enough. One could only be surrounded by the holy-saintliness of Potter and the dimwitted Weasels before eventually turning into a certified nutter.

In his periphery, he could see that she had taken a seat next to him and was smiling that same pitiful smile.

"Staying away from the rest of the world, and getting angry, will only intensify the pain of loneliness - "

He choked on his drink.

"- and make your situation worse than it already is."

Setting down the drink, Draco swiveled around to glare at Granger, who simply continued to gaze at him with that unsettling motherly expression. Shrugging his shoulder out of her grasp, he stood up to tower over her menacingly.

"I don't know what you think my _situation _is, but I am perfectly FINE!" he yelled.

She stared up at him with wide brown eyes.

"And furthermore, I do not need an annoying Gryffindor swot interrupting my tea-time, spouting her unnecessary advice!"

With that, he stormed out of the waiting room.

She tucked her loose curls back, and shook her head dejectedly.

"Poor thing. He's suffering so much ..."

* * *

_August 4th _

_6:35 pm_

Dear Draco,

I hope this letter finds you well.

Enclosed is a list of some excellent Mind-Healers ... in case you, or any of your friends, require it.

Remember: you are not alone.

Regards,

Healer Hermione Granger

*Senior Dragon Pox Specialist*

_August 4th _

_6:55 pm_

Dear Granger,

What . the . hell.

Malfoy

*Senior Keep-your-nose-out-of-my-business-ist*

_

* * *

_

_August 7th_

_10:20 am_

Despite his best attempts to divert her misguided attempts, Draco found that Hermione Granger was rather like a deranged, obsessive dog.

With wild curls flying all about her, she always seem to land up wherever he was, giving him that puppy-dog-pout and growling menacingly every time he tried to escape her presence. If it weren't for the fact that she was taking care of his mother, he might have neutered her peskiness ... _permanently_.

"Draco!"

"What?" he barked, turning on her.

Hermione visibly jumped.

"I - I - " her voice shook. "I wanted to speak to you."

He narrowed his eyes.

"About?"

"Well," she smiled nervously, "I have some excellent pamphlets here ..."

He took one look at the various array of papers in her hand, which were featuring some horrifically tragic people, sporting a multitude of sad expressions and sitting in sad poses - an old man crying over his cane, a woman crying in bed, a child crying over a toy.

He finally caught sight of the title.

*HOW TO DEAL WITH DEPRESSION*

_Bloody hell._

"Are Potter and Weasley here?" he demanded.

"Huh?"

Her eyes were wide with confusion.

Folding his arms and coming to tower over her, he peered suspiciously down at her.

"I bet they're around here somewhere aren't they, having a laugh -"

"I don't understand ..."

" - let's make stupid old Malfoy go insane and make a fool of himself."

Hermione shook her head insistently.

"No, Draco. I would never do something like that! Not when you're in this condition."

"What _condition_?" he roared.

His voice echoed in the hallway, very close to his mother's room, from where he had been attempting to flee. Several members of the hospital staff were glancing at them curiously, after his outburst, but wisely kept quiet. The moved around them, but were now clearly eavesdropping.

"Look, I promised your mother not to tell you," she whispered quietly, to draw attention away from themselves.

"My mother," he repeated slowly, several things clicking into place suddenly.

"Yes," Hermione nodded.

_Should have known ..._

"But, it's obvious that the situation is spiraling out of control, and before long, it will be too late -" her voice was growing more desperate.

"Too late for what?"

"Too late for you, Draco!" she cried, flapping her arms madly. "How can you believe that anything can be solved by taking your life?"

"_WHAT_!"

"It's true; there's so much to life if you just open your eyes and take a chance -"

Draco clapped a hand over her mouth.

Silence.

She eyed him warily.

Counting backwards from ten, he breathed in and out, calming himself from doing something he would regret and like risking his mother's recovery by murdering her Healer. When he had gathered himself, he slowly opened his eyes and paused before removing his hand.

"Now, listen carefully Granger."

She nodded slightly.

"I will just assume that you are PMS-ing and are therefore undergoing a temporary mental imbalance. So I will disregard everything you have just uttered and remind you that you are here for one purpose, and one purpose only: to cure my mother."

She nodded again.

"AND I AM _NOT _SUICIDAL!"

The hallway was quiet.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione stepped close to him and held his hand.

"Acceptance is the first stage to recovery, Draco."

He stared.

With a string of curses, he pushed past her and out of the building.

* * *

_1:05 pm_

"I'm trying, Mrs. Malfoy, but I just don't think I can get through to him."

Hermione sat with her head in her hands, while Narcissa patted her hand soothingly, all the while glaring frustratedly to herself.

Her pig-headed son was ruining everything!

Even when everything was offered to him openly on a silver platter, he insisted on sticking to his pride. What did she have to do - sit him down and explain word-for-word what the aims of her quest were and why he should cooperate?

Ridiculous!

He may have Hufflepuff-like idiotic moments, but he was a Slytherin to the core. He would not react well to force.

The elder woman watched her Healer attend to her task dispiritedly. She may be muggleborn, but she was truly the most brilliant and caring woman she had come across. And in a short time, she had already become attached to the young woman.

It gave her even more cause to be angry with Draco for troubling her.

"Perhaps, I am not qualified to handle him," Hermione confessed.

_"If you can't, then no one can."_

"What?"

"Oh nothing."

She sighed and Narcissa patted her cheek fondly.

"You know it is because of Draco's malady that he is so irascible," she said.

"I know," Hermione agreed despondently.

"Then, why are you so dejected?"

"I - I understand his condition. But he still seems to hate me_ more _than he does others."

"Don't take it to heart, Hermione. Boys are meanest to the girls they like most."

"..."

"..."

* * *

_August 9th_

_9:00 am_

The visiting hours of St. Mungo's hospital had just commenced when the doors to Narcissa Malfoy's bedroom burst open dramatically.

"Did you tell Granger that I was suicidal?" Draco demanded.

Lucius stared, speechless. Narcissa continued happily knitting through her son's outburst.

"Of course."

"Wha - why?"

She set down the small baby sweater, and clasped her sore hands together elegantly. Her son was pouting like a small child and she resisted the urge to laugh at the familiar sight. Instead she simply shrugged.

"Well, it's obvious that you have been depressed for a while," she explained.

"No I haven't!" he protested hotly.

"You have been very restless ever since we left England."

Lucius grunted in assent.

Draco glared at him.

"Restless and suicidal are two very different things, mother."

"Not when I caught you about to jump off the balcony in Tuscany," she retorted.

"Our villa was hot and I went to get fresh air!" he cried out in protest. "I even _told _you so!"

"Oh, did you? ... Must have slipped my mind," she said coolly.

Lucius' lips twitched and Draco narrowed his eyes.

"Even if you did think I was suicidal - why in the world did you tell Granger, of all people?"

"Why wouldn't I tell someone who _cares _about you?"

"..."

"..."

When Draco, like Hermione, did not express any sentiments of disgust, Narcissa smirked, missing her husband's horrified expression.

Interesting.

* * *

_9:40 am_

This was ridiculous.

Knowing both his mother's and Granger's big mouths, he could not trust them from keeping this idiotic rumor to themselves. He would have to do some serious damage control before it was too late and it got into the papers.

And what did mother mean by her _caring _for him?

Ridiculous.

This was his life-long enemy.

Right.

Right?

Before he developed any more doubts, he was going to set Granger straight once and for all.

"Are you all right, Draco?" Narcissa asked after he continued pacing for several minutes.

"No mother, I am not. Hermione Granger thinks I am suicidal!"

He ran a hand through his pale hair.

_"Fortunately." _

"What?"

"Oh nothing."

Lucius eyed his wife suspiciously.

"I am going to find her and set this whole mess straight!" Draco snarled, more to himself than his parents.

He took off at full-speed out of the room.

In the lingering quiet, Narcissa casually finished knitting the sweater while Lucius stared disconcertingly out the door from which Draco had stormed out.

"Mm ..." she issued a pleased sound.

Lucius regarded her warily.

"Draco has forgotten his wand here, hasn't he?"

"Yes ..."

"Good."

She smiled.

Sometimes he wondered why the Dark Lord hadn't been more frightened of his wife's Slytherin tendencies.

.

.

.

* * *

_AN: One more to go!_


	3. Part 3

**The Three-Part Quest**

_Part 3: The trekkers reach their goal_

.

.

_August 9th_

_10:40 am_

This was ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous. Everyone had gone mad, his mother most of all, because of that infernal creature! Hermione Jean Granger had one thing coming for her if she thought he would sit back and let her libelous rumors spread around the entire magical community.

Wait, why did he even know her middle name?

Hmm.

Not good not good - _oh_!

"Granger!"

His bark resounded ominously in the hospital.

The attendants and other Healers paused to look curiously as Draco marched over to where Hermione was standing in the hallway, reviewing some files. She gently put down the folder in her hand and gazed cautiously at his pale face, which was red with fury.

"Draco?"

Her eyes were large and innocent.

He gazed down at her lush form, suddenly devoid of thought.

"Is everything all right?" she asked hesitantly.

"Uh ... yes. _No_!" he cried out.

Hermione was examining him in confusion, her brown eyes big and wide.

Draco cleared his throat and looked away, disconcerted. Moments ago, he had been too preoccupied with anger and confusion to fully deal with Granger, but now that he had calmed down, he was blatantly aware of her proximity and new found amiability.

She smiled.

There it was again!

That damned smile ... not good not good.

"Anything I can help with?" she asked, with that unmentionable expression on her face growing to epic proportions.

"_Yes_. I wanted to say," he stated firmly, regaining his previous momentum. His fist was shaking at her. Good. You've got it going Draco Malfoy - state your business and show Granger who's the boss around here.

"Yes?"

"_I _am the boss."

"Excuse me?"

Hermione's pleasant expression had faded into wariness. She was looking at Draco stonily, and a little annoyed. But this only pleased him more.

"You heard me," he said smugly, his chin raising higher and his arms crossing with innate superiority. "I am the boss. Not you, not my mother, and certainly not those idiotic self-help books you keep mailing me. I know that I am not suicidal -"

"But-"

"-and if you ever, in this lifetime, bring up insinuate such a thing again, I will sue you for medical malpractice!"

She gasped, eyes rounding in shock.

Her small hand clutched her heart.

If he had brandished a sharp knife and plunged it into her breast right then, he suspected her expression would be no less shocked or betrayed. He watched as her eyes darted around to see if anyone else had heard the threat.

"H-how dare you!"

She withdrew her wand and pointed it at his throat.

His hand immediately shot into his robes to fetch his own wand, and upon patting his empty robes desperately, he belatedly realizing it wasn't there.

_Fuck_.

He had ticked her off without any means of defense.

Stupidstupidstupid.

"After all that I tried to do for you!" she screeched. "All the research material I collected on the topic! I did so much for you even though you weren't a paying patient or a close friend ... and this is what I get in return? I don't know why I ever expect you to change ..."

"Okay, okay, I apologi-"

But she wasn't paying him any attention, her hands on her hips and her small bow-shaped lips moving furiously as she continued to lecture him.

"Suicide and depression are serious matters and I truly believe I've been helping you accept this fact instead of allowing you to meander around in your ignorance ... the statistics show that matters such as this should not be -"

She was advancing like some unhinged beast.

"And furthermore, you cannot use your clout as a Malfoy and your wealth to threaten me into cowering like some -"

With her finger jabbing into his chest, and he finally snapped.

"_Granger_!"

He grabbed her hand and stilled it within his grasp, inadvertently drawing her closer.

For a long minute they gazed at one another, each forgetting what they had so fervently been arguing about just seconds before. His eyes followed hers as they dropped to her hand, which was now flattened against his chest.

Thump, thump, thump.

Her hand was on him.

Was that his heartbeat? It sounded odd.

Notgoodnotgoodnotgood ...

Warm.

Buzzing.

Mudblood germs. Mudblood germs. Warm. Mudblood g- warm, mudbloo- warm warm warm ...

"Just open up and tell me how you feel, Draco," Hermione insisted.

"Warm," he blurted out.

Both of them froze.

"_What_?"

They stared at each other speechlessly.

* * *

_11:00 am_

The hallway quickly returned to its normal state, with people running about from room-to-room. They had already forgotten the preceding fight, ready to continue working.

One particular attendant, Melinda Weatherby, was bustling away to fetch some items from the supplies closet, when she noticed something strange.

The door to the supply-closet was shaking.

Violently.

She froze, extracting her wand slowly, and wondered what creature had gotten into the tiny room. Hopefully it wasn't wreaking any havoc. St. Mungo's was already running behind on supplies for the month.

Taking a deep breath, she came closer to the closet.

There was a deep rumble coming from inside, which she suddenly identified as that of a man's voice. In fact, she thought, as she pressed her ear against the door, it sounded rather like a groan.

What -?

The shaking continued in full-force, the poor door now straining against its hinges due to a strange rhythmic banging.

But then it stopped abruptly, leaving a heavy silence.

She paused to listen.

There was a soft drawn-out moan.

"_Oh _... _Draco_."

Blushing, the attendant rushed away.

* * *

_August 10th _

_1:30 pm_

It was with careful caution, and just the slightest bit of trepidation, that Harry Potter stepped into his best friend's office. The entire place looked as if it had imploded. There were stacks of papers piling up and cups of coffee discarded, leaving an unholy level of uncleanliness.

Something was seriously wrong.

He was almost about to send a patronus, asking for Auror back-up when he finally spotted her by the window, pacing up and down, muttering to herself.

" - so stupid, most abysmally idiotic and dangerous act -"

"Hermione?"

" - how could, I don't know, Merlin help me -"

"Hermione!"

She jumped when he clamped his hands down on her shoulders. Her face colored in realization.

"Harry! Oh ... sorry, I was just ... um ..." She waved a hand nonsensically at the utter disarray of the room around them. Harry quirked an eyebrow. Her cheeks were bright red, and she was studiously avoiding his gaze.

"What's wrong?" he cut her off.

"Wrong?" she laughed, a little hysterically. "What could possibly be wrong, except for the fact that I could be fired ... medical malpractice, sleeping wi - Oh _Merlin_."

Harry gently brushed her curls out of her face and fixed his green eyes upon her.

"Medical malpractice," he said slowly. "Why in the world would anyone sue you for that; you're brilliant."

To his complete horror, she covered her head with her hands and wailed lowly.

"Harry ... I'm in big, big trouble!" she cried.

"Calm down," he assured her lightly, trying not to panic her even more. "I'm sure it's couldn't really be that big of a problem. What is it, by the way - you've been having trouble with Narcissa Malfoy's recovery?"

With a low groan, she admitted, "Yes."

"Well, it can't be that ba-"

"I SLEPT WITH HER SON!" she blurted out suddenly.

"..."

"..."

"Her son -? HER _SON_!"

* * *

_August 11th _

_3:35 pm_

At long last the day was here.

After a two week grueling recovery period, she was finally healed.

It was the day for her to leave St. Mungo's but Narcissa was not at all happy about this, not when her son was pouting to himself in the corner of the room. Her plan was not going well and it didn't take a genius to understand why. Lately, Hermione only entered the room whenever Draco left, and exited when he arrived.

They were clearly avoiding each other. Or at least _she _was avoiding her son.

Lucius was supremely unconcerned, of course. He was tapping his fingers on his cane impatiently, unaware of his son's state. Honestly, was she the only one with an ounce of emotional awareness in this family?

Turning to her son, she addressed him without preamble.

"Have you spoken to Healer Granger lately?" she demanded.

Draco shook his head, lips pursed petulantly. His jaw was tense and would have seemed unaffected by the topic to anyone other than his own mother.

Sigh.

"You like her a lot, don't you?" Narcissa asked quietly.

"Hmm ..."

"Excuse me?" Lucius growled.

At the sound of his father's indignation, Draco sat up straight and his eyes were wide with panic as he realized to what he had admitted. He looked between his parents, one smiling knowingly and the other glaring threateningly, fearfully.

"Wha-no! Me liking Granger? That's mad. Mad ..."

Mumbling some excuse to his parents, he stalked out of the doorway. He was running a hand through his light hair as he fled the room.

Narcissa sighed. "We are all mad in love."

"_Don't I know it,_" Lucius muttered.

"What was that?" Her eyes narrowed at him.

"Nothing, dear."

_

* * *

_

_August 15th_

_12:20 pm_

It was days later that Hermione's ears still rung with the lecture Harry had given her.

For nearly an hour when he had visited he had yelled at her. She was usually the one to scold him and Ron, and it still made her wince to remember his tone of voice. He was right. What was she thinking? Malfoy?

Crazy.

So she had resolved to forget the entire incident and had been studiously avoiding the blond ferret for the past few days, instead concentrating on healing her patient as soon as possible and never having to see his pale beaut - ugly face again.

This resolve was made more difficult by Narcissa having to return to St. Mungo's for further follow-ups.

Sigh.

"Everything all right, Hermione?"

"Oh, yes." She carefully applied a salve to Mrs. Malfoy's skin. "These residual scars will be gone in no time; they're already fading as we speak."

"I wasn't referring to myself. Is everything all right with _you_?" Narcissa asked pointedly.

Hermione froze.

She knows, she knows, she knows.

"I - "

"You must not be getting enough sleep, hm?" She smiled disarmingly.

"Oh, right. Yes. That's it."

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief.

"Even Draco doesn't seem to be getting a lot of sleep these days," Narcissa remarked innocently.

"R-really," her voice cracked.

"Yes," the older woman shook her head in disappointment. "I just don't understand it. He seemed to be recovering and gaining his spirit again, and then suddenly this week, he's back to sulking. What if he truly turns to suicide!"

Hermione dropped her wand, shocked.

"I know he doesn't say it, but he's lonely. I feel it," she bemoaned.

There was a long, lingering silence.

"Hermione?" she queried, when the young Healer did nothing more than stare out of the door in horror.

"I'll be right back. Um, Healer Wadsworth will take care of the rest."

With that she rushed out the door, feeling infinitely terrible for abandoning her patient like this, but experiencing an even greater dread at the thought of Draco's state. How could she have ignored him so persistently, knowing his condition!

She missed Narcissa's triumphant smirk on her way out.

_12:55 pm_

Draco was flipping through a magazine in the waiting room, when he saw two familiar petite legs stop in front of him again. He stilled.

"D-Draco?" she sounded nervous.

He looked up at her with solemn grey eyes.

"How are you? Are you - your mother said you weren't feeling well again." She wrung her hands together, and he frowned in confusion. His mother ... oh! That manipulative woman. He shut his eyes, wondering what other information she had let _slip _to Hermione.

Granger.

Her name was _Granger_.

He was about to deny every word and push her away defiantly, when suddenly a cunning gleam came into his eyes. What self-serving Malfoy would resist an opportune moment when it was so readily being offered ...

Especially when he himself had been considering it several times over the past week.

Draco bent his head and shrugged sadly, "It's true. I've been unwell."

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, close to tears.

She deserved to be punished with medical malpractice. Pushing a suicidal person to the edge was just utter cruelty.

"What can I do to help?" she pleaded.

Draco hid a smirk.

"Well ..."_  
_

* * *

_4:05 pm_

Lucius awoke that afternoon in his bedroom, having inadvertently fallen asleep after the exhausting trip back and forth to St. Mungo's. The final check-up was complete and his wife was declared to be in perfect health again. Drowsily wiping a bit at the drool on his lip, with utmost dignity, he stretched his arms.

It was then that he realized he had been clutching his snake cane in his sleep.

Coloring quickly, he slowly released the cane, hoping that his wife hadn't noticed.

Narcissa smirked knowingly.

He cleared his throat, and was about to speak when a strange noise interrupted him. Cocking his head to one side, he realized that he could hear muffled sounds and groans somewhere on the floor, close to their son's quarters.

"Is Draco home?"

"Mmhmm," she smiled.

"Who -?"

"Finished!"

Lucius lost track of his previous question when Narcissa held up the tiny sweaters she had been knitting. She neatly folded the multicolored pile of clothes in front of her, beaming proudly at her handiwork.

He frowned.

"Brown haired, grey eyed grandchildren would look so pretty, wouldn't they?" Narcissa asked dreamily.

_"What!"_

* * *

_September 10th_

_9:40 am_

It was almost a month later, when Draco and Hermione found themselves in Healer Thomas' office. They were each sitting awkwardly, clearing their throats and admiring the charts and pictures hanging on the walls.

Once in a while they would catch each others' eyes and look away instantly.

Finally, the door opened and the Healer joined the couple with the results. With bated breath, they urged Thomas to read out the prognosis.

"Congratulations, Healer Granger, you are pregnant!"

Thomas beamed at them.

"..."

"..."

They stared at him.

"What?" Draco muttered, his eyes unfocused.

"Pregnant," Hermione repeated, equally stunned by the news.

Healer Thomas closed the file and inspected the couple closely. "I'm sorry ... is something wrong?" he asked. _  
_

"But we just ..."

"Only a month."

"I know."

They were muttering to each, slightly dazed.

"I'm sorry," the Healer frowned. "I assumed you were expecting this news -"

Draco and Hermione glanced at each other, puzzled.

"Why would you think that?" she queried at last.

"Oh, I don't know," the Healer tapped his chin. "The fact that you have a month's worth of fertility potions in your blood?"

"..."

"..."

"..."

"_WHAT__!_"

_._

.

.

* * *

_AN: The end! Review :)_


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